


Fragment

by Brighid



Category: Gospel of Judas, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Character of Faith, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brighid/pseuds/Brighid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man that clothes me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragment

**Author's Note:**

> This will not be everyone's cup of tea. End notes explain where it came from.

Fragment 

The streets were heavy with dust, and the buttery light of late afternoon slipped around the closed shutters, making soft-gold puddles on the floor. Yehuda watched as Yeshua sat silent, eyes closed, talking with his Angel. 

The Angel was tall as the tallest man, clothed in robes that fluttered in an unseen breeze, and its face was strong, smooth, utterly serene. There were no words between them, but they were talking, all the same, right up until Yeshua's eyes snapped open and he smiled at Yehuda. "It is done?"

"Yes, Rabbi," Yehuda said, his voice hard and thick and he thought, surely, that the Angel would smite him because he found himself filled with a hate so pure and rich he could taste it in his mouth, like copper coins. The weight of the silver in his pouch burned against his hip.

The Angel wavered, moved forward, touched him; knew his hate, his sorrow and forgave him of it. "It always hurts those who are not ready," it said kindly, and suddenly there were hands to hold Yehuda's shoulders, a mouth to kiss each cheek. "You are a good friend to him." And then the room flared brilliant white. When Yehuda could see again, the Angel was gone, and Yeshua was holding out his hands to him. He, too, clasped Yehuda's shoulders, kissed each cheek. 

"This is as it must be, for others to understand," Yeshua said. "You are my truest friend, you are first amongst those who would follow, for you will free me of the man that clothes me, you will take me on the Journey that leads to our Father's house."

"I am fond of the man that clothes you," Yehuda said, finally, reaching out to hold Yeshua's hand. "And the others will not understand. They will tell your story, but they will tell it wrong, Rabbi. They are still the children of the House of Israel. They do not understand the many rooms, the many houses. They are not ready yet." I am not ready, yet, he said, in his heart.

"And yet it is time, all the same," Yeshua said. "And you are a good friend to me, for you do as I ask, not as you would have it." He smiled again, and squeezed Yehuda's hand. 

)0(

The matzos were round as wheels, and Yehuda watched as Yeshua broke them, passed them. "My body," he said, smiling at the impermanence of flesh. Later, when they drank that last glass of wine, "My blood," he offered, freely given, easily spilled, for it was the trappings of his limitations. The body was something ephemeral, fleeting, to him. Yehuda looked at the faces around the table, and he thought, perhaps, that the woman, Miriam, might understand, but the rest?

They still did not grasp what the Rabbi had taught. The seeds of his teachings were rooted in them, but they would, Yehuda suspected, bear strange fruit indeed.

They did not understand, because they were still the sons of Israel.

Simon bar Jonah most of all. 

And then Yeshua spoke of betrayal, and Yehuda looked at his Rabbi; in his heart he knew that it was he, even if the Rabbi did not see it that way. In despair Yehuda turned his head away, his gaze brushing Simon bar Jonah's, who had his own betrayal, apparently, to digest. 

In his gaze, the anger was raw as a wound, and it made Yehuda tremble.

)0(

They carried torches to split the darkness, and just as promised the Rabbi sat quietly in the garden, talking to his Angel, though only he could see him. Still, Yehuda tasted the lightning in the air, knew that they were not alone. He walked over to Yeshua, kissed him, pressing his face to his. "My Rabbi," he said, his voice cracked in two. "Yeshua," he said. 

And then the soldiers took Yeshua. Yehuda watched them walking away, listened to the stillness of the Rabbi's voice in the midst of their jeers, but could not find that stillness within himself. Eventually they were gone from his sight, and he started walking the streets, to the outward edges of the city walls. Somewhere along the way his robes were torn in the crazed streets. As dawn crested he found himself in a field outside the city walls; in a haze of anger he tore open the purse at his side and flung the coins out over the barren dirt. 

"Silver coins? Our master was worth silver coins?" Yehuda turned, saw Simon bar Jonah.

"He thought so," Yeshua said finally, bitterly. 

Simon was a fisherman; he had strong hands.

This was the last thing Yehuda thought as they stole the breath from his body. 

)0(

Cameron set the paper down. "Gospel of Judas. My granny's probably spinning in her rocker right now." He looked up across the table. "This Gnostic stuff, the whole shedding of the body. Sounds sort of familiar. Sort of like ...?" He made a hand gesture, fingers tracing through the air.

"Like ascension," Teal'c supplied. 

"Yeah, like that," Cameron agreed. "Would you know what Oma was doing a couple of thousand years ago?"

Sam choked on her coffee. "I don't think Jesus was Ascended," she said finally, when she was finally done coughing. "I mean ..." and then she trailed off. "Huh. My cultural bias is showing, isn't it?" she said ruefully.

Daniel smiled. Ten years together had changed them all, apparently. "I think ... that there are all sorts of truths," he said finally, evasively.

He closed his eyes briefly, and remembered a fragment, an echo of shared knowing: a broken body in a potter's field, and a howl of grief that made a stone crack right in two.

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about when they found a text purporting to be the "Gospel of Judas" that was more gnostic in tone than the others. In it, Judas is fulfilling his role to help free Jesus' pure spirit from his flesh, "the man that clothes" him and it made me think of Daniel's journey. And I thought, just as Jack was left broken, so might have Judas been. I realize this will not work for a lot of people but it's one of the few things I've written that's always stayed with me. No disrespect intended.


End file.
